


Laurel Isn't Home

by Major



Category: How to Get Away with Murder
Genre: Ensemble Cast, Halloween, Horror, M/M, Protective Connor
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-10-26
Updated: 2016-10-26
Packaged: 2018-08-27 04:35:59
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,966
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8387413
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Major/pseuds/Major
Summary: It's Halloween night, and there is something wrong with Laurel.





	

**Author's Note:**

> Written for the Spook Me challenge. Happy Halloween!

Working for Annalise meant getting used to a certain amount of fear. Connor even thought he was getting better at dealing with that fear without completely falling apart. He hadn't threatened to run off or confess or throw anyone else under the bus to save himself when the latest crisis emerged, but this was so far beyond the realm of their normal disasters that he could do nothing but sag with relief when Annalise finally showed up at the apartment. He wanted to institute a ban on visiting Wes, because it was basically a Hellmouth. Nothing good ever happened there.

He and Oliver were out in the hall, supposedly to keep a lookout and give a heads up if trouble came their way (say, in the form of cops coming to investigate all of the strange noises coming from inside), but really he was hiding. They both were. Everyone else was inside dealing with... _it_ , but he didn't want to be there at all. He wanted off the phone call chain list that meant he got dragged into another crisis every time one of them was in trouble.

"It's late," Annalise said as she reached them. "It's Halloween."

Like that meant anything. Connor frowned, so sorry that their crisis was interrupting her celebratory _Walking Dead_ marathon or whatever. "Were you trick-or-treating?"

She gave him a look that shut him up fast.

"Let's go," she demanded.

Connor's eyes flicked to the door, but he didn't move.

Beside him, Oliver was rolling with nervous energy. "I don't want to go back in there."

Yeah. Connor could live out in the hallway. Or better yet, on another planet. Recruiting people to live on Mars was a thing, wasn't it? Sounded good to him. He could pack his stuff, shove Oliver in a cab, and move somewhere where there was sunshine instead of a constant murder cloud. A Disney resort, maybe, where the only danger was being pulled into a hug by one of the handsy Goofy cosplayers.

"Neither do I," he said. What they wanted and what was allowed never seemed to match up.

"Get in," Annalise demanded.

His heart sank, but as always, he did as he was told.

Michaela and Asher were in chairs against the wall as far away from the bed as they could get. Bonnie arrived five minutes before Annalise and was standing, arms crossed and unmoving, at the bathroom door. Wes was the only one close, which Connor kind of got. Laurel was his best friend, the person he relied on most in the group. Connor liked her and felt a loyalty to her the same way he felt towards the rest of the group, an unfortunate consequence of getting through a lot of really horrible shit together, but no bond was strong enough to make him get that close to the bed.

Oliver's hand slipped into his at his side as they went in and walked a very unsubtle, wide perimeter along the wall to get opposite the bed, and he knew that wasn't true. If it was Oliver, he would be at the nightstand. He would be on the mattress. Hell, he'd probably still be holding his hand.

Annalise met Bonnie's eyes first and when Bonnie didn't immediately rant about their collective stupidity, she gave them the benefit of the doubt. "Someone explain to me right now why Laurel is tied to the bed. If you people have started some weird sex club, you should have lost my invitation."

Bound by wrists and ankles to the bedposts, Laurel was laid out on the mattress, hair sprawled across the pillows and following Annalise with her eyes but saying nothing on account of the gag in her mouth. The gag was Oliver's idea after the fifth round of loud laughter and shouting. ("Please, somebody mute her. Use a rag or a towel or one of those Hannibal Lector masks? Sorry, but I'm having flashbacks to my first boy scout camping trip where the campfire tales literally made me piss my pants. I think I actually lost badges for that.") Only Wes had volunteered to get close enough to secure the scarf around her mouth.

When no one else answered, Bonnie stepped up like she always did. "There's—" It took a long moment of thought, uncomfortable shifting throughout the room and Oliver pressing more securely into Connor's side for her to decide that bluntness was the route to go. "Laurel is possessed, Annalise."

The responding humor in Annalise's eyes simmered down a lot faster than Connor would have thought. Her jaw tightened and her gaze returned to the bed, and if he didn't know any better, he would have thought there was more resignation than doubt on her face.

"Remove the gag," she ordered.

"That is not a good idea," Connor immediately objected.

Being looked at by Laurel had been enough to chase them from the room. Her eyes were darker and laser-focused. It was unnatural, like seeing a spider look out from behind human eyes. Listening to it was asking too much.

"I have to agree," Michaela said as she got to her feet but kept her distance. "It is unsettling. We need to brainstorm, and we can't brainstorm with that thing talking."

"Plus, she—it… the it in the she reeks something fierce," Asher added. "Like desert island bath-less skunk sauna stankiness. If that thing burps, it'll probably knock us out with a fume bomb."

"Take it off!" Annalise snapped, and all objections got swallowed under their obedience. Like dogs or puppets. What Annalise said, went. Then again, that was why they called her. She could fix it. She always fixed it.

Wes removed the gag.

Laurel smiled directly at Connor, and it was completely devoid of anything resembling his friend. A shiver went up his spine.

It was Laurel's voice that spoke, but with those eyes and the odd crooked movement of her neck, it was like speaking to a stranger. "It's the cheater and his sweet, sweet O."

Oliver's hand tightened around his.

"I don't like this," he muttered.

Connor only replied by squeezing his fingers. They just got back together after their breakup fell apart into a crumbled messy confrontation of apologies and confessions. It was asking a lot to deal with a literal demon after just battling their own metaphorical ones.

"You know he still cheats on you, right, Oliver?" Laurel said, a nastily amused quirk of her lips creating a smile that was not her own. "Boys from all over the place: the internet, campus, bathroom stalls in dirty bars. He'll take it from anyone and give it just as good. You know that, right, Sweet O? You know that."

Connor balked. "She's lying!"

Oliver looked between Laurel and her deranged smile to Connor's wide-eyed incredulity and gave a small nod. "I believe you."

"'I believe you'," Laurel mocked. "'I believe you.' He doesn't even want to _be_ with you, Connor! That's why he doesn't care. Did you think you were going to last forever this time?" Her laughter rolled long and slid through his ears like mud. "He'll dump you again. He doesn't love you. And who can blame him for that?"

Oliver looked pained as he shook his head. "That's not true."

There was a hell of a lot more doubt in Connor's mind than had been in Oliver's when he reassured him, but he gave a slight, unconvincing shrug anyway. "I know."

Laurel squirmed on the bed like a snake.

"Why does everyone always think their love is real love? I don't even believe in it." She winked up at Wes beside her as he stared down at her impassively. "I don't love anyone."

Wes was staying a lot calmer than the rest of them despite having the most to lose. "You're not Laurel."

"I'm not? Where's Laurel?" She seemed to puzzle that out for a moment and chose the best conclusion to most rile those in the room. "Maybe she's with Frank."

Annalise was frozen in place, but Bonnie winced.

The overhead light flickered. Connor's back hit the wall as the light came back on, but it took effort not to lose his cool and make a break for it. He couldn't remember making a blood pact that committed him to be there during all the dark shit.

Connor was about to suggest that they all get the hell out of there when Annalise approached the bed and began speaking in Latin.

Oliver squirmed. "Uhh..."

'Uhh' was right. 'Uhh' pretty much summarized Connor's own feelings. She wasn't just speaking Latin, she was staring at Laurel - or what was inside of Laurel - and speaking quickly, meaningfully, with purpose. Laurel hissed, and her back arched off the bed.

Wes was watching her closely. If any of them put unshakeable faith in Annalise to tie on her cape and save the day, it was him. "What was that?"

"Are you, like, possessed too?" Asher asked and took a noticeable step behind Michaela. She smacked his arm. He winced but stayed shielded.

"I've encountered it before," Annalise explained. "With Eve. A long time ago."

"You and Eve battled demons?" Connor asked without really asking, because of course Annalise Keating was familiar with demons.

They were first-name basis buddies. She was probably testy, because Bloody Mary and Damien were waiting for her to get back to the party and finish bobbing for apples. He wouldn't be all that shocked to learn that she was the way she was, because she _was_ a demon that took over the body of the real Annalise Keating a long time ago. Anything seemed possible after everything they had done.

Asher gave a quick shake of his head. "Should I be surprised? I don't feel surprised. Anybody? At this point, if she said she was God, I'd start praying."

"More like Satan," Michaela muttered.

"Quiet!" Annalise demanded, and the room fell silent. The Latin started up again, more heated this time, and Laurel writhed and screamed like it burned her.

Oliver leaned in close and whispered in his ear, "She's saying, 'Leave this place. In the name of Jesus, leave.' Or 'be gone' or something."

Connor shot him a look at the translation. "You are such a nerd."

He almost sunk into that familiar zone of guilt and shame and fear that still pestered him when he also felt relief that Annalise was fixing everything in her own way when Laurel's body wrenched high off of the mattress and forked at an odd angle with a loud, guttural shout. The ropes tying her to the bed splintered, split and broke loose. The lights went out with a pop. This time they didn't come back on.

Startled bursts of fear spread in a wave throughout the room. Oliver gripped his arm tightly, but Connor was barely reaching back when Oliver shouted in fear and fell to the floor with a loud thud.

"Ollie!"

Laurel's maniacal laughter broke through the darkness just as Michaela raised her phone up and shed the light of her screen over the commotion. Laurel was on top of Oliver, pinning him to the floor and grinning into his face so closely that the spit as she spoke spat down on him.

Laurel's voice was no longer her own. A deep, ugly bass coiled around her words and passed through her lips in a distorted voice that belonged to something rotten and evil. "Wanna take me for a ride, Sweet O? We can make the whole world a _positive_ place!"

"Oh, God."

The plea was hardly past Oliver's lips before Connor knocked Laurel off of him and pulled him away. The light from Michaela's phone went out as the screen suddenly cracked, and the phone split down the middle in her hand.

Hard, pounding steps hit the floor as Laurel scurried over it on all-fours.

Connor swore and dragged Oliver back against the wall, shoving him against the dresser roughly in his blind rush and shielding his body between it and him.

Bonnie's phone went up. Laurel appeared beside the bed in the dim light and knocked Wes to the floor.

"Hi, sweetie!" Laurel licked a long stripe up the side of his face, and Wes jerked his head away. "You're my bestest friend in the whole world. If you died, I could live inside you. Then we'd be closer than ever."

"Laurel, stop!" Michaela yelled.

Wes tried to move her off of him, but she was holding his wrists down with unnatural strength. "It's not Laurel," he repeated, and Connor could see him clinging to that truth like a life jacket in a shipwreck.

If this wasn't Laurel, she could still come back. She was still in there somewhere past the nightmare grinning down at him. She was biting her bottom lip so hard that blood was beginning to trickle down her chin.

"Michaela!" Annalise snapped. "Give me your necklace."

Michaela glanced down at the small silver cross resting on her chest. "What?"

"Now!"

Bonnie's phone cracked down the middle, and the light blinked out. There was shuffling in the darkness. Wes grunted in protest. Asher was swearing in the corner of the room, and Connor pressed his back more firmly against Oliver, not being able to see where it was or what it was doing.

Oliver stretched his arm out over Connor's shoulder and held his own phone up to light up the room. Laurel sprang onto the bed, neck at an odd angle and bones shifting with bizarre jerky movements under her skin, like the thing inside of her didn't know how to move yet in the body it occupied. It was all quick, stunted crawling and dragging. She toppled over onto the floor on the other side and bounded on all fours straight for where Connor was guarding Oliver. He tensed up but prepared to take the blow and push her back to give Oliver a chance to get away.

Armed with Michaela's necklace, Annalise slammed into Laurel before she reached them and tackled her to the floor. She was screaming in Latin now, her voice filling the dark room and carrying throughout the building. The necklace went around Laurel's throat like a garrote, and she pulled hard, closing Laurel's windpipe and forcing her quiet as she pounded demanding words into her ear.

"No! Stop!" Wes shouted.

Bonnie stepped between them and pushed him back before he could intervene.

"You're going to kill her!" he yelled.

Connor wasn't altogether sure that wasn't the goal at this point. Laurel wasn't home, and that thing inside of her wanted them dead. Better it than them. He pressed Oliver into the corner and watched Annalise go, watched Laurel's face go pale and her fingernails scratch and chip at the floor as she fought to get free.

Annalise held her down. "Exorcizamus te, omnis immunde spiritus, omni satanica potestas—"

"We cast you out," Oliver quickly translated, panting fearfully into his ear. "Every unclean spirit, every satanic power."

"Omnis legio, omnis congregatio et secta diabolica—"

"Every legion, every diabolical group and sect."

"In nomini et virtute Domini nostri Jesu Christi—"

"In the name and by the power of our Lord Jesus Christ."

Annalise shouted loud enough to throw Connor's already racing heart into a bigger frenzy, and Oliver rushed through the rest of her chanting over and through her own words, voice cracking in fear.

"We command you, begone and fly far from the Church of God, from the souls made by God in His image and redeemed by the precious blood of the divine Lamb!"

The silver chain snapped, and Laurel collapsed against the floor. Connor didn't move. Behind him, Oliver was clasping the back of his shirt with his free hand and aiming his light down at Laurel with the other.

Annalise stayed over her, staring down at her and breathing heavily, until Wes pushed past Bonnie and fell to Laurel's side. She got up and moved off of her, so he could roll her onto her back.

"Laurel?" he asked gently, cupping her face and trying to stir her.

Connor wasn't sure he was comfortable with her being stirred. The stirring could start once he got Oliver the fuck out of there. He hated these people at least as much as he cared for them. Breaking the law, stealing, even murder, he could handle. Demon shit was pushing the boundaries of study group a little too far.

To his dismay, Laurel's eyes fluttered open. He couldn't lie; he half hoped the bright red line across her throat meant she wouldn't be coming around anytime soon, or ever. Her cough sounded pained, and she pulled in a rough breath through her mouth.

"Wes?" she asked, sounding confused but just like Laurel, and not that thing that was coming out of her earlier. She blinked up at him in his jeans and t-shirt. "Why aren't you in your costume?"

Wes laughed, and a tiny bit of the tension eased out of Connor, enough to stop pressing Oliver back so roughly. He gave him some breathing room.

"Pretty sure we missed the party, Laurel," Wes replied.

"I wouldn't say that," Connor said dryly.

They didn't enter any costume competitions, but he was pretty sure this night would stand out in his memory more vividly than any trick-or-treating would have. Oliver dropped his forehead to Connor's shoulder. He leaned back, still breathing heavily, to kiss him on the temple.

Annalise groaned as she got to her feet. "I hate Halloween."

As much as he enjoyed recycling costumes for sporadic role-play, not even imagining Oliver in the tiny loincloth that passed for a Tarzan costume that he bought to Oliver's immense embarrassment, could persuade him to disagree. Next year, he would sleep till November.

**Author's Note:**

> Found the exorcism spell online. Apologies for any mistakes.


End file.
